


These Dumb Idiots

by Miss_Vile



Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [19]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Vile/pseuds/Miss_Vile
Summary: "You made me a sandwich?"
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: Nygmobblepot One Shots [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1396144
Comments: 23
Kudos: 95





	These Dumb Idiots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bandicoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bandicoot/gifts).



> Did I just write an entire fanfic inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sl4JbBK--Bo) video? Absolutely. Do I have _any_ shame? Absolutely not.
> 
> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ Enjoy!

Oswald was fairly certain that Edward hadn’t slept in days. Since that fateful evening that he found himself sheltered under his roof, he’d observed that Ed wasn’t always the best at taking care of himself. The man routinely forgot to shower or change out of his casual clothes on his days off. He would become so hyper-fixated on whatever project he was working on that he would neglect sleep and forget to eat. 

Something had caught his friend’s attention and he was once again buried nose deep into a series of books and a small black notebook he never saw Ed without. Papers were strewn about along with an assortment of loose parts and post-it-note labels.

Ed would often try to explain his elaborate projects and puzzles to his newest friend even though Oswald struggled to keep up with the technical terms and mathematical reasoning. Still, he would listen. He may not always understand and wasn’t the best at solving the brunette’s riddles, but the man always held his attention.

Oswald loved the way Ed’s eyes would light up whenever he would look up during one of his ramblings and see that Oswald was still there. He radiated like the sun anytime Oswald would place a hand atop his and encourage him to continue on with whatever random topic he was blathering on about.

There were a few times— in those shimmering moments— that Ed would hold his breath and lean forward. He would always stop himself and then rebound back to his original train of thought. It left Oswald reeling each time.

He’d felt fondness for people before. It was embarrassing to admit it, but James Gordon was one of those people. However, aside from his own mother, Oswald never felt as connected to Jim or any other person like he did with Ed. Edward respected him and his vision. He tended to his every need and he never mocked him. Never made him feel unwanted. The least that Oswald could do was give him his undivided attention and help him stay grounded in reality when his mind started pulling him in a million different directions.

With a contentful sigh, Oswald pulled himself from the comfort of the bed that they shared— an arrangement that made him feel lightheaded but wouldn’t dream of complaining about.

“Breakfast is on the counter,” Ed said with a smile before turning his attention back towards the box of loose nuts and bolts he was cleaning with an old toothbrush and a tube of FLITZ.

Oswald returned the smile and made his way toward the kitchenette. There was a spread of fruits, creams, honies and syrups, and a small stack of French toast waiting for him. Ed had his timing for breakfast down to a science. No matter how irregular Oswald’s sleep schedule, Ed always seemed to know when he would stir and when to have breakfast ready for him. The toast was still warm and fragrant and the kettle was whistling about the time Oswald had made his plate.

He savoured every bite and wiped his mouth on his napkin. If he and Ed continued to live together and he cooked for him every morning, Oswald was certain he’d gain weight from Ed’s insistence that he be spoiled.

“Ed, did you already eat before I got up?” he asked, noting the lack of dishes in the sink.

“Hm? Oh, no. I stopped long enough to make something for you because I know how hungry you are when you first wake up. I’ll eat later.”

Oswald rolled his eyes, “I could brew you a pot of coffee if you want.”

Ed stopped scrubbing at the rusted bolt in his hand and slowly looked over towards his friend. He said nothing but Oswald could tell that there were a dozen questions flashing through his mind.

“Coffee would be nice. Thank you,” he slowly turned back towards his work.

Oswald opened the cabinet where Ed kept all of his coffee and teas. Typically, Ed would either use a French press or a vacuum pot. Oswald never had much patience or experience with those methods and was too concerned with ruining Ed’s coffee to attempt it now. He pulled out a tin of pre-ground and opted to use the small soft brew maker that was already on the counter.

“Here you go,” Oswald handed him a mug that he knew was one of Ed’s favorites— simple white ceramic with a quaint green question mark drawn on with a paint marker.

Edward stared at the proffered mug and then glanced up towards his friend like he was confused. He turned toward the kitchen and inhaled sharply at the mostly full coffee pot and the opened tin.

“Is something the matter?” Oswald asked.

“No,” he wiped his hands on the rag in his lap and took the mug, “I just didn’t expect you to actually make it.”

“I offered to make you coffee. So I made you coffee. Did you assume I was lying?”

“No! Not at all. I just…” his brow furrowed, “I didn’t expect you to go through the effort of bringing it to me. That’s all. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Edward took a sip and his eyes widened, “You even added sugar.”

“Of course,” Oswald chuckled, “I’ve noticed that you always put too much sugar in your coffee whenever you make it. Did I not put enough in? Or is it too much?”

“It’s… perfect,” he took another sip before glancing back up at his friend, still confused.

Oswald wasn’t entirely certain how to respond so he simply cleared his throat and carried on with the rest of his morning.

Around noon was when Oswald began to worry. Edward was still hunched over on the floor surrounded by different bolts, screws, cogs, and other bits of metal. Each individual piece was laid out in neat little rows next to a label and Ed was showing no signs of stopping his manic obsession over his meticulous organization. 

Oswald had already eaten through an entire box of crackers and an apple so he wasn’t particularly hungry when lunchtime rolled around. He glanced over toward his friend and figured that, if Edward wasn’t going to get up and refuel himself, then Oswald would have to do it for him. Not that he particularly wanted to make a habit out of it but he also didn’t want the lanky man to starve as a symptom of his own idiocy.

“Ed?”

“Mmm hmm…?” Ed examined a particularly small cog with a magnifying glass, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

“I made you a sandwich.”

Ed looked up and blinked, “You… You made me a sandwich?”

“Yes. I thought about bringing it to you but you should really wash that crud off your hands before eating it.”

Ed looked down at his hands and his stomach growled loudly. He hunched over and Oswald could see red splotches color his friend’s cheeks.

“You’ve been sitting there all morning,” Oswald scolded, “And I assume you were there most of last night. So take a break and eat this damn sandwich.”

Embarrassed, Ed made his way toward the kitchen and scrubbed away the metal cleaner and polish that coated his hands. All the while Oswald stood there holding the plate and tapping his foot.

Ed turned off the faucet and turned towards his friend, “You made that for me?”

“I would have eaten it by now if I had made it for myself,” he held the plate under his friend’s nose, “Now stop being a stubborn ass and eat it.”

Ed took the plate but he continued to stand there and stare at it like it was some strange, foreign object.

“You made me a sandwich,” Ed repeated.

“Yes!” Oswald couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous his friend was acting, “Hasn’t anyone made you a sandwich before?”

“No.”

“Surely your parents did,” he placed his hands on his hips.

“No. They didn’t.”

“...Oh,” now it was  _ his _ turn to stare at the uneaten sandwich on Ed’s plate.

Ed slowly took a bite and Oswald couldn’t help but stare at him as he did. Ed placed the plate down on the counter and wiped a tear from his eye.

“Thank you,” he started crying.

“You’re welcome,” he felt a tear roll down his cheek, “Why are we crying?”

“I don’t know,” Ed laughed through his sobs.

“I’ll brew your coffee and make you sandwiches every day for the rest of our lives if you’ll let me.”

“I’d like that,” Ed chewed on his lip.

“Good. I.. um.. I’d like that too,” Oswald stared at the ground. He watched as Ed took a step closer towards him and wrapped him into a hug. As they pulled away, their faces were atoms apart and neither man could resist the urge to press their lips together.

“You taste like mustard,” Oswald chuckled, licking his lips.

“And you taste like apples,” Ed smiled against his mouth. He leaned in to kiss his friend again but stopped the moment his stomach growled.

“My god— EAT SOMETHING!” Oswald flailed, “Or you’ll waste away and never get to kiss me again.”

“Noted,” Ed pecked him on the cheek before taking his plate to the table to finish his lunch.

Ed glanced over towards the mess he’d left on the floor. It could wait. Right now he had something far more interesting and worthy of all of his admiration and attention waiting for him.


End file.
